I’m sitting on my sofa watching in sheer disgust, a program called Beyonce vs Rihanna. So far, neither of them have actually appeared live, let alone bludgeon each other to death with large weapons. If you call a show ‘something VS something’ then I expect violence. Instead they are showing their music videos while two ex Hollyoakers who clearly haven’t been able to find work since due to their lack of acting ability, skills to read an autocue or any charm at all are now subject to being stuck on T4 presenting a show that says it has fighting in it but doesn’t. I think its T4’s attempt at making a new Ant and Dec, as these two played a double act in Hollyoaks, some commisioning person must have decided that comedy timing isn’t integral for these sort of things. And then the lack of fighting between the divas. I’m truly outraged by the whole thing. I wish this was the sort of thing Daily Mail readers got upset by, then I wouldn’t loathe them so much. If the paper was filled with articles saying ‘Beyonce and Rihanna no show fight shocker!’ with small headers such as ‘Um-ber-hell-a’ and then comments from members of the public saying things like:
‘I’d gone out of my way to invite all my friends round and bought popcorn and everything. We were all hoping Beyonce would use a spiked mace. Rihanna’s quicker so would have used a series of knives and perhaps a crossbow. I was so excited until I saw bland and bland presenting and I knew we’d been lied to.’
All I’m saying Channel 4, is that you need to up the odds. I miss Celebrity Death Match, so why not, in the teentie twenty tenties, where celebrity culture needs to be extinguished, pit stars against each other in a head to head battle of survival? Whats that? Health and Safety restrictions? Its political correctness gone reasonable I tell you.
I enjoyed television for the first time in ages last night. In some sort of attempt to start 2010 by turning over a new leaf, and commencing yesterday’s aim of getting healthy and beginning afresh, me and Layla got a curry just in time to stay indoors and watch Doctor Who die. And it was good. Most of it. I’ll be honest I wasn’t expecting much and for the most part I was left wondering exactly what was going on. It felt a bit like a story a seven year old might have written:
‘ Then everyone’s the baddy but then the Doctor goes to space, but then the Timelords who were dead aren’t dead and a lady who appears in places cries but no one knows who she is, then the Doctor makes them all go away then he gets radiated and then he doesn’t die for ages and ages and ages so there can be a very tenous goodbye sequence worse than the one in LOTR Return of the King.’
Ok so the last bit wasn’t very 7 year oldy but its right. So there. I won’t go on about it too much as Michael Legge has already written a lovely blog about it here. This is not to say I didn’t enjoy it. I really did. Bernard Cribbin is amazing in everything he does, and I’m very excited about the next season of the Doctor, even if Matt Smith did start his bit by saying ‘Geranimo’. The whole show was a bit like when you eat cake and the cake’s really good but then you spill some cake on your new trousers and the stain never comes out and later you have a heart attack due to the cholesterol from the cake but still you remember that was a pretty good cake and you’ll probably buy it again. After the show I did spend a considerable amount of time trying to gain access to Doctor Who type geek blogs in order to find spoilers and also find out just who that woman was. I didn’t managed to do either but I did catch the preview of next season which I wish I’d found online before having to watch five minutes of Eastenders first. Really BBC, couldn’t you have just put it after the Doctor Who episode? Eastenders is the televisual equivalent of hanging around a hospital ward full of terminally ill patients after reading the news about the end of the world being rather nigh. The only difference is you don’t know any of them and most of them are so irritating or unable to die with any decent acting conviction that you don’t really care.
So next year, good Doctor Who scripts please, celebrity fighting shows and something with bears and sharks in it. Are you listening TV? You should be.
I will be plugging this all week so thought why not start with a plug right here. This will continue to be posted constantly everywhere until it becomes reverse PR and everyone stops following me on Twitter, unbefriends me on Facebook, blocks me from their email list and even shoots my carrier pigeon if it flies nearby. Unless of course you all buy tickets now and sell it out in which case, I’ll stop. Till then, let it begin:
PLEASE COME TO MY SHOW PLEASE COME TO MY SHOW PLEASE COME TO MY SHOW
PPS today’s blog didn’t have a single spelling mistake according to the spellcheck. If you find that it did I will write a letter to the blogspot people and cuss their dads down.
